Chiral Mad 3 Page 14

  Growing, forgetting your guilt like Time forgets clocks

  A bad memory for what’s past is often the best salvation

  And many times the makings of a great prophet

  But your dead sibling is watching under you

  God alone knows why

  And what God knows will hurt you.

  THE BIGGER BEDROOM

  JOSH MALERMAN

  1

  BARRY AND BRIAN stared up at the huge house, mouths agape, the beach ball at rest between them on the grass.

  “It’s better than Dad said it was going to be,” Barry said. The boys were the same age, eight, but they were not twins. Barry had two months on his brother. Brian was also adopted. Or, as Dad said, taken in. Or as Mom said …

  … welcomed in.

  “Yeah,” Brian agreed. “It’s enormous.”

  “Look.” Barry pointed to the second story windows. “That window there … that’s one of the bedrooms. And those two windows over there,” he said, pointing to the opposite end of the house, “is the other one.”

  “Two windows?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why does that room have two windows?”

  “Because,” Barry said. “It’s bigger.”

  Brian looked from one end of the house to the other, then back again.

  “I want the bigger bedroom.”

  “Yeah, of course you do. So do I.”

  Brian looked to his brother. They’d become brothers, not cousins, at two years old. When Barry’s Uncle Doug, Brian’s dad, drank so much he drowned.

  “Then what do we do?”

  “We do what everybody does in this situation. We flip for it.”

  Barry stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. The front door of the house opened and Mom appeared in the sudden rectangle.

  “Boys,” she said. “Come on. You haven’t even been inside yet.”

  “We’re coming,” Barry said.

  “We’re coming!” Brian repeated.

  Mom frowned and closed the door.

  “Heads or tails?” Barry asked.

  Brian thought about it. He looked up to the house again. It felt like a very big decision. Heads or tails. The bigger bedroom. Either way, one would be his bedroom.

  “Tails.”

  Barry nodded and tossed the coin. He caught it and had it flat and hidden on top of his other hand.

  “Tails you get the two windows, heads I do.”

  “Yep.”

  “Alright.” Barry revealed the coin.

  Heads.

  “Come on,” Brian said.

  Barry smiled.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s move in.”

  2

  It was everything Dad said it would be and more. Both parents were glowing about the kitchen, and the size of the refrigerator. Neither Barry nor Brian cared about that at all. They were bouncing from room to room; the basement had room for a pinball machine, and floor hockey if they wanted it. The bathrooms were modern, updated as Dad said. The tub off the master bedroom had two showerheads and the brothers thought it was gross that Mom and Dad might shower together. The living room had a wall of windows that looked out on a three-quarter acre yard. Mom said it was big enough for a wedding. Barry and Brain imagined war games, adventure stories, hanging ropes from treetop to treetop, building a fort.

  “Everybody will be here in forty-five minutes,” Mom said. ‘Everybody’ was the group of family friends and relatives who agreed to help the Ellums move in. The promise of pizza and beer went a long way in getting people to help you move in.

  “Let’s just start doing it ourselves!” Barry said, looking out the front bay window to the U-Haul parked in the driveway.

  “I like your spirit, kid,” Dad said. “But I also like my back. My neck. My knees. All of me.”

  Barry shook his head, looked to the ceiling.

  “Brian!” he called upstairs. “Are you looking at my bedroom?”

  Barry raced up the stairs and found his brother was indeed standing at the doorway to the bigger bedroom. Barry’s bedroom.

  “Come on” Brian said. “It’s like twice the size of mine. How about we both sleep in mine, and we use this as a playroom?”

  “No way! We flipped.”

  Barry smiled and entered his new room. Without any of his things, it was just a long, clean, empty rectangle. He spread his arms wide and spun.

  “There’s so much … roooooom! ” he sang, laughing and spinning.

  “Stop it,” Brian said. But Barry was infectious and Brian joined him, spinning and singing about how much room was in Barry’s new bedroom.

  A thump from below and the boys dropped to their knees and pressed their ears to the gray carpet.

  “Dad?” Barry said, smiling at Brian.

  “Dad!” Brian called. “Say something!”

  Another thump and Dad’s muffled voice from below.

  “Come on down!” he called. “The movers are here!”

  They sprang up and ran to one of the windows. They looked down to the front yard and the driveway below.

  Uncle Hugh and Aunt Bree’s old turbo diesel Mercedes. Mike’s Ford pickup. Three people hopped out of the truck bed.

  Brian watched Hugh and Bree exit their car and he thought how strange it was that Hugh was also one of Mom’s brother’s. Just like his real dad had been.

  “Come on,” Barry said. “We gotta’ fill this house up! ”

  He spun again, spinning out of the room.

  Brian paused, still at the window.

  Then he felt alone up here. Alone in all this empty house.

  We gotta’ fill this house up!

  It felt huge, empty, and endless without anything inside of it.

  He bolted out of the room and joined everybody else by the front door.

  3

  Before moving in, Mom warned them that it could take a family years to “truly fill a home.”

  No matter how big or small it is. No matter the shape or size. It’s an unwritten rule; making a home takes time and nobody knows the formula for when it happens. Just suddenly one day you’ll realize … PRESTO! We live here.

  But that’s not how it went. Moving went smoothly and everything was put pretty much where it was in their last house. In fact, most of the house felt like an elongated version of their last home. Same pictures on the walls, just more space between them. More distance from the couch and television, same red rug on the ground between them.

  “I like it here,” Dad said, holding Mom on the couch. The boys were on their bellies in front of the television. An old movie. Gene Kelly. They kinda’ liked him. Mom loved him.

  It was night, dark outside, and the Ellums had enjoyed their new house for only three nights, and yet … it did feel like home.

  “We oughtta’ put a pool out back,” Dad said.

  “No way,” Mom said. “That’ll eat half the yard.”

  But Barry and Brian loved the idea.

  “Oh come on!” Barry said. “We’d be the most popular kids at school!”

  Mom seemed to consider this.

  “No,” she said.

  “You can’t have an artist space and the yard,” Barry said.

  Mom, Susan, was taking art classes. Painting. She had dreams of abstract, psychedelic renderings of her life story. But she figured she should learn the right stuff first. She was enrolled in a Still Life class at a nearby studio.

  “I sure as shit can,” she said, tossing a throw pillow at Barry but hitting Brian on the shoulder.

  Dad laughed. The boys thought it was funny every time Mom swore.

  Gene Kelly broke into a wild dance routine and the boys forgot about the pool and Mom thought about her painting class and Dad just loved every minute of being here. When it was time for bed, the four of them climbed the stairs together, as if they still felt like newcomers after all, like they were in a hotel, a friendly one, taking the stairs up to their rooms.

  On the second floor they sa
id goodnight and dispersed. Mom and Dad walked the long white hall to the master suite. Brian trotted off in the other direction. And Barry crossed the nearest threshold and entered the bigger bedroom.

  4

  Briaaaaaan!

  Brian woke in the dark. He sat up in bed and looked to his half open door. He could never decide if we wanted it closed or open. Open meant you might see someone coming down the hall. But closed meant you might be stuck in here with that someone.

  So halfway. He liked to leave his bedroom door halfway.

  His eyes adjusted but the moonlight coming in through the bedroom’s one window made it easy. Quickly he could see his dresser. His posters of Snagglepuss and Grape Ape, the stars of the Laff-A-Lympics. The piles of clothes, neatly folded, beside his closet door.

  The plain white clock ticked on his nightstand and he listened to it for half a minute.

  Was that what woke him?

  He didn’t think so. He had a distant memory of hearing his name.

  “Briaaaaaaan! ”

  Brian clutched his blanket and sheet.

  It was his name, absolutely. And it wasn’t a distant memory. It was a voice that sounded far away.

  He looked to the wall that separated his room from Barry’s.

  “Barry?”

  Brian listened closely, listened hard. He thought he heard movement from that same echoey distance.

  Bare feet upon solid ground.

  “Barry?”

  “Briiiiaaaaaaaaaan! ”

  Brian ducked, pulling the blanket higher up, to his eyes. He stared at his half open door, expecting Barry to come floating in, the way his voice sounded, the way he called his name…

  5

  At breakfast the next morning, Barry looked tired. He ate a lot. Two platefuls.

  “Don’t comb your hair anymore?” Mom said, bending at the waist beside Barry and flattening his messy brown hair. “Look, Steve,” she said to Dad. “Barry is living like a king in his new palace.”

  “That’s the way to do it,” Dad said, before leaving the kitchen and heading for the office, his new office, half the reason the Ellums moved into a place this size to begin with.

  “You two entertain yourselves,” Mom said. “I’m going to paint.” She followed Dad out of the kitchen and turned around to face the brothers still seated at the kitchen table. Barry had a twinkle in his eye, and bags beneath them. “Go play in the yard,” she said. “Explore it for us.”

  As soon as she left, Brian brought up the night before.

  “Your room must be huge,” he said.

  Barry looked up at him.

  “You saw it. It is huge!”

  “Yeah but,” Brian said, and checked to make sure neither Mom or Dad was listening. “Last night I heard you calling my name. You sounded a thousand feet away.”

  Barry smiled and nodded. His eyes grew distant, the way people’s eyes get when they’re remembering something.

  “Did I scare you?”

  “Yeah! Kind of!”

  Barry laughed.

  “It’s fun to call over to you. You’re only a room away.”

  “Sounded like four hundred rooms.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  But Barry smiled again and the look returned to his eyes.

  “Come on,” he said, pretending to toss his plate across the kitchen toward the sink. “Let’s explore like Mom said.”

  6

  Outside, the brothers fell to their knees on the grass, having just raced across the yard.

  “I won,” Brian said, smiling. “I’ve never won before!”

  Barry looked like he was going to argue this, then stopped. Instead, he nodded.

  “You did.”

  Brian pressed his hands against the ground.

  “It’s soft out here,” he said.

  “I’ve felt softer,” Barry said, lying down on his back.

  “You have? Where?”

  Barry shrugged. He lay perfectly still, his arms at his sides, his legs together. Eyes closed. Brian looked over at him, then looked away. He didn’t like to see Barry that way. It reminded him of his real dad, in his casket. Brian was only two years old then but remembered it. His dad. Motionless. Arms not crossed over his chest like people say it goes. Arms at his sides. Legs together. Lying down.

  “What are you doing?’ Brian asked after enough time had gone by without Barry moving.

  Barry opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

  “Ever see a guy take a nap before!”

  7

  Briiiiaaaaaan!

  Night again. Brian sat up quickly in bed.

  “Barry?” At first he asked it. Then he called it. “Barry!”

  “Briiiiiiaaaaaan! It’s so fun out here! ”

  Brian didn’t like the echo. Didn’t like how far away his brother sounded. It sounded too far. Like Brian was calling from another house. Or from the middle of another street.

  Brian swung his legs over the edge of his bed. The carpet was soft under his bare feet and that was something. That was some small comfort.

  He walked to the window and parted the curtains. He looked out into the yard.

  “Briiiiiiiaaaaaan! ”

  He squinted into the moonlight. It sounded like Barry was calling from outside! Or somewhere far enough away to be outside. He looked to the trees at the edge of the yard. Looked at the black shadows made there.

  “Barry?” Brian asked himself. Then he looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Barry standing in his doorway, smiling, his hair a mess, talking about soft earth and lying on his back like a dead father.

  But there was no Barry. Not there.

  But somewhere.

  He crossed his bedroom and peered out into the dark hallway. Mom and Dad were asleep at the other end of it. It looked far. Far enough that even a quick run wouldn’t get him there fast enough.

  He opened his door all the way and slipped into the hall, turned right and saw the head of the stairs. Saw the soft glow of a blue night light from the first floor. It illuminated enough of the door to Barry’s bedroom to see the doorknob.

  He went to it. Went to the doorknob. Placed his hand upon it.

  “Briiiiiiaaaaaaan! It’s so fun out here! ”

  Barry’s voice; it hadn’t come from inside his bedroom. It couldn’t have!

  He began to turn the knob and stopped. He didn’t want to open the door. Didn’t want to look into Barry’s bedroom. Was afraid he’d find him in bed, standing on the blankets, cupping his lips, calling his name with a voice that made no sense, made no sense of the echo… of the distance…

  “Briiiiiiaaaan! ”

  Laughter. Real laughter. Echoed but finite. A long hallway. Walls. Something.

  Brian turned toward the hallway leading to Mom and Dad’s bedroom. He trembled, imagining Barry emerging from the shadows, maybe crawling toward him, maybe floating, on his back, his arms at his side, his legs together straight out before him, eyes closed.

  Brian raced back into his own bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.

  He climbed into bed and felt like even the carpet might do something to him, might show him that it had fingers, might reach for him as he was pulling the blanket to his eyes.

  Might pull the blanket back.

  You need to see this, Brian … it’s so fun …

  “Briiiiaaaaaaaan! ”

  “What?!” Brian called, hardly able to stand the sound of his brother’s distant voice. He didn’t want Barry to speak again.

  But Barry did speak again. Brian leaned toward Barry’s bedroom.

  I’m back!

  He thought he’d heard Barry say I’m back.

  “Good,” Brian whispered, trembling, his heart thudding catlike in his little chest. “Good, Barry.”

  Wherever Barry had gone, wherever he’d called from, so far away, he was back. Barry was back.

  And that was enough for Brian.

  Enough for now.

  8

  “God,
Barry,” Mom said, “you smell.”

  She was holding a hand over her mouth and nose. She looked at Dad and Dad looked at her and it was obvious she felt bad about saying what she’d said. But it was obvious, too, that she’d meant it.

  Dad rose from his end of the table and stepped to Barry.

  “Okay, kid,” he said. “Bath time.”

  Barry didn’t fight it. He didn’t argue at all. Dad eased him up out of his chair. Brian watched as his Mom flattened Barry’s messy brown hair again, then wiped her hands clean on a paper towel from the kitchen counter.

  “Steve?” she said.

  Dad, halfway out of the kitchen with Barry, looked over his shoulder at her. Brian could tell that they were silently asking questions. Without speaking, Mom was asking if Dad knew what that smell was. Dad, without speaking, was saying he didn’t know and that it worried him, too.

  “Let’s clean you up,” Dad said.

  “Okay,” Barry said, his voice sleepy and, to Brian, very present, very close.

  Mom turned to face Brian.

  Once Dad and Barry were out of the room, Mom sat at the table. “Brian?” she asked.

  Brian looked up at her, wide-eyed.

  “What?”

  “Did you two play in the yard this morning?”

  “No, we didn’t. You just woke us up.”

  Mom nodded. She was considering this.

  “Did you play in the yard in the middle of the night?”

  Brian shook his head.

  “No.”

  She stared at him an extra beat. The extra beat that meant she was checking if he was lying.

  “You didn’t play out there … run around … you didn’t … find an animal?”

  “Find an animal?”

  Mom shook her head.

  “I don’t know. A dead animal?”

  Brian was confused.

  “Is that what Barry smells like? A dead animal?”

  “No,” Mom said and Brian believed her. He also believed she still thought he smelled something like a dead animal.

  A dead something.

  The sound of the shower erupted overhead. Dad was washing Barry above them.

  Brian wanted to say something. He wanted to say, Why is Dad washing him up there? Why is Dad washing Barry so close to his bedroom? Doesn’t Dad know he should stay away from there? Doesn’t Dad know he should keep Barry away from his bedroom?